


In Which Someone Becomes a Kid

by Tarton



Series: The Diverging Universes of Stiles Stilinski [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Platonic Relationship, Restraint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:37:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarton/pseuds/Tarton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wakes up, in his summoning circle. He is disoriented and confused, and also about ten years old... this is strange...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This picks up right after The Ceremony, the point in which the universe decides what will happen. It's interesting to think about this theory of multiple universes, and it can be complicated. If sudden confusion occurs, rage about it for a minute, try to breathe normally, and write me a dirty note about.... butterflies and angry feelings.

There was light all around him, like there was never any darkness in the world. His eyes almost hurt from its brilliance. His room looked odd, he was lying just off of his bed, but his bed felt strange. He was befuddled, a word that nobody used anymore, but it was a good word. But word love wasn’t an activity to do when you woke up after drinking all night. He looked around him, it was his room, the floor, but why was he here? There were a lot of questions, and no answers. But he felt ok, for waking up on the floor with a hangover. He really wanted cereal. Cereal sounded good.

Stiles got to his feet and moved towards his cell phone, he forgot to put it on the charger last night; he’d need to do something about that. Of course, he wasn’t able to do anything about that right now anyways; not two steps from where he was he was stopped by a wall of light. He looked down at his feet, his too small feet. He was in a summon circle. His summon circle.

“Think.” He said out loud, “why am I in my summon circle?”

There was no logical explanation, “Shoes and high water!” he swore. He had given up harder swear words a few months back, he needed more color in his life, and sometimes, just sometimes, when you were colorful the creature behind you would giggle, and a giggle had saved his life a few times.

Feet, that was his next thought, “Why are my feet so tiny?”

He couldn’t figure it out. And wasn’t he wearing socks when he went to bed last night? Yeah, there were socks. He remembers thinking that he shouldn’t be wearing socks to bed. He remembers glancing at the summon circle. He remembers all of this, and yet, he can’t find out exactly it all meant. There were gaps in his memory obviously, or things that shouldn’t have happened but did. And then there were feet.

“Stiles?”

Feathers! His dad was home! “Yeah?” his voice sounded squeaky.

He heard the knob turn, but thankfully it was locked, “Hey, mind unlocking your door?”

Stiles was in no position to unlock his door, “I’m a little… indisposed right now…”

“At 8 in the morning? Stiles!” his dad said, but made no further attempt at the door. “Just wanted to know if you wanted breakfast before my shift, but I’ll talk to you later, tonight. Dinner. Bye.”

If Stiles had a wall to pound his head against… But he didn’t. So he just stood in the summon circle, waiting for clarity. “Ok, so you wake up in a summoning circle, now what do you do.”

The grimoire was on the desk, unhelpfully closed and mocking his attempts at seeing into its secrets from a few yards away. His cell vibrated and beeped. A text. He wondered idly if anyone was going to notice that he wasn’t there today. First day of summer, and it was not even the late afternoon, he was going to have to wait a while until someone noticed that he was missing. His dad might find him in here. And that would lead to interesting and strange problems. He imagined how to tell his dad that he was shrunken, and stuck.

But why did he have small feet?

“Think Stiles, think. You are in a summon circle, one that is supposed to bring a hell cat from another dimension. What was it that the hell cat was supposed to do? Become bound to the summoner when its name was called. Hell…. Umm.

“Stiles Stilinski.”

It didn’t work, of course it didn’t. It wouldn’t work because it wasn’t his real name.

He decided to say his real name, the name he had run away from for a long time.

That didn’t work either.

He was stuck. Forever.

###

A half of forever later, a quarter of an eternity and a few hours later, Stiles decided that he was going to starve to death. Of course his cell had announced texts and emails and one beep that he had no idea what it meant, but that was going to be ok. For now. Now because he had had a quarter of an eternity to find other changes that were a bit more concerning. Like lack of body hair, and growth. That had scared him for a few minutes, but not very much. Because the tiny hands were scary too. And so were the tiny skinny arms, and the tiny skinny everything else. There was something very strange and crazy going on, and Stiles wasn’t happy about it.

He had tried to say his name so many times; his voice was starting to get a bit hoarse. But it was ok. He figured he would rather try it a million times than die without a fight. And he was fighting, well, sort of. Death was an option for him, at all times. It was very disturbing. Death was the alternative that nobody wanted. But this was strange, and strange and horrifying. There were thoughts that he had in his head, thoughts of explanations that were going to be given; thoughts of humans that really shouldn’t be in the know suddenly knowing.

Of course that was when he received the phone call. It was Scott’s ring tone, and then it ended, and then a few minutes later, there was another phone call, but this one was not anyone’s ring tone. So maybe he was going to get a bunch of calls today. That might make people think that they should check on him, right? Except that it was the day after graduation, and everyone else was probably expecting him to sleep in.

So he was screwed, at least until tomorrow. Or maybe until his dad came home, but he really didn’t want his dad to find him like this, shrunken and feeling so foolish. And having to explain all about magic and werewolves and other things. At least he was still human, he hoped. Maybe he had turned himself into a pixie though, but he couldn’t tell if he had wings or not. 

A knock at his door made him start, “Stiles?”

It was Scott.

“Stiles? Are you up yet?” jiggling of the handle, but not too hard, he wasn’t worried, “Stiles open up man!”

There was more silence, as much as Stiles wanted to be rescued, or at least not be stuck in this damned circle, he didn’t want to endure the endless ribbing, especially if he had rainbow wings on his shoulders.

There were footsteps leaving his door, and then the front door slammed, and then Scott was outside of his window. He opened it quickly enough, as Stiles had put a few nails on the outside, ease of access nails that would only help people get in without clawing up the window frame, like it used to be. Scott landed on his feet, smiling the entire time; he liked the little things that he could do, now that being a werewolf was a good thing, and not a curse.

“Stiles, why didn’t you open up your door?”

Of course Scott wasn’t paying attention! When had he ever? “Because I’m stuck in this thing.”

Scott finally looked up, and Stiles felt too indignant to even cover himself up in modesty or shame, he just put his tiny hands on his tiny hips and stood in front of his best friend. He waited for the series of emotions that he was expecting to come. Confusion, surprise, humor, more confusion.

“What happened to you dude?” and of course Scott was snickering. “You look like you did when you were 9.”

Apparently that was something that he was prepared for, in the back of his mind, he knew it was a possibility, but this was going to be difficult to explain. “I think I messed up something when I was drunk last night, and now I’m stuck in this circle until someone says my name.”

Scott leveled him a look that spoke of confusion and understanding, “Were you trying to summon a hell cat?”

Stiles looked at his friend, “How did you know!”

Scott just stood where he had landed, clearly not trying to get Stiles out; not that he could have done anything. But that wasn’t the point, he was just standing there, acting like nothing strange was going on, and Stiles was still naked. “Well, last time you got drunk, I was at least with you, and you were saying how you always wanted a pet cat, and that hell cats were supposed to be really cuddly and soft and who didn’t want to have a cat that could kill a man with a stare. You were going on about it for a few minutes, and then you pulled out that old book, and then you started turning pages, but decided to stop, saying I wasn’t supposed to know about it yet.”

Stiles looked at the ground, “I need to stop drinking.”

Scott nodded, “or you need to keep your book out of Drunk Stiles’ hands. I mean seriously, I can’t believe you did it. I mean, you messed up, but still, what if you did something worse? What if you killed yourself?”

Stiles looked at Scott, “You aren’t mad at me for hiding all of this from you?”

Scott shook his head, “We’ve all seen you do magic Stiles. I knew you were studying it. Especially after the last time I got cut open during practice, and you healed me, it didn’t take you any effort at all.”

Stiles nodded, “Yeah, I’ve been getting really good at that, have to keep this pristine body looking good, and can’t do that if you are all scarred up.”

Scott just shook his head. “Ok, so how are you going to get out of there?”

Stiles looked at him, “Try saying my name.”

Scott huffed, “Stiles Stilinski.”

It didn’t work.

“Try using my real name.”

Another huff, another name, and still nothing happened.

“Try coming over here and saying closer to the circle, maybe this thing works on distance, I don’t know.”

Scott finally came closer, almost touching the circle, and the circle hummed in greeting, it could feel the magic in Scott’s blood, the magic so much unlike what Stiles used, but still there. And really, there was always magic in Scott, in the way he was always there for Stiles, even when he really wasn’t. It felt like forever ago that they had practiced lacrosse in hopes of getting on first line, and now, now Stiles was depending on him again, this time to do something bigger, something stranger.

“Stiles.”

It was a pop and a release, and Stiles fell to his knees, fully exhausted. “I need clothes, get me clothes.”

Scott looked at Stiles for a second, and then looked away, “so this is weird.”

Stiles didn’t feel like responding, “I know it’s weird, don’t you think I know that? I don’t want to go through puberty again, I just need to get out of here before my dad get’s back.”

Scott stopped rummaging through Stiles’ clothes, “Your dad, shoot, what are we going to tell him?”

Stiles felt sleepy; somehow this was all wearing him out. “We’ll say that we’re spending the night at your place, and we’ll pretend like we are doing dumb normal things.” Somehow, dumb normal things sounded perfect, but this was going to have to take precedence. “I’ll go with Danny to visit Jackson. That’ll keep me busy for a few weeks.”

Scott looked at the shirt he pulled out, “How are you going to go around the states with Danny and get yourself back to normal?”

“Take me to Derek’s; I will sleep over there for a while.”

“AT DEREK’S?”

Stiles nodded, and yawned. “Just get me a damned shirt.”

Scott looked back and smirked, “Watch your mouth or I’ll wash it out with soap, hear me?”

Stiles was half way asleep before he could feel a small but crazy amount of fabric drape across his body, felt his arms pulled into sleeves. “I can’t find you any pants that’ll fit. I think these basketball shorts might do, but it’ll be a loose fit,” and he felt his legs be pulled up, be pushed into fabric that was definitely his old gym shorts, shorts that really should have been thrown out after first semester. He had his lacrosse uniform, but that was bigger.

The feeling of being picked up, a weightless sack of flour, a rag doll. Stiles of course didn’t bother to ask Scott how he got here, but felt more than saw the rumbling of his jeep, the click of the seat belt around his waist, it was a comfort. And then they drove off, and Stiles was asleep, but he didn’t know that.


	2. Best laid plans....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens....

The car stopped, and like every drive Stiles had ever fallen asleep on, he woke up at the stop. They were outside of the old Hale place, but it didn’t look so old, it looked nice. Smaller than it ever was, but it looked good. He remembered that summer they tore it down, the old burned out pieces. Stiles had gone through first, pulled the worn and burned out wood away at the exterior, pulling the window panes out, making sure that everything was going to be fine.

There were plans, plans that had only partially come into play, he had pulled the panes apart, put old boards behind them, put new windows in front, picture frames, waiting to be filled. The few pictures, the few pictures that Derek had taken since he started wanting more pictures, well they weren’t very good or bad, they just were. Stiles remembered everything, the sadness that he saw the day he presented them to Derek, the feeling of gratitude, the small hug he received a few days later. And now he was here, a strange twist of events.

Life seemed to simple yesterday, compared to now. “Scott, will you stay for a while?”

Scott looked over from where he was seated, “of course, I wasn’t going to leave you. I called in from work, Deaton said he would stop by later. Allison will probably want to know what’s going on.”

Stiles shook his head, he still felt very groggy, “No, I don’t want anyone to know who doesn’t have to. Just tell Danny that I am going to be with him, and tell everyone else the same. Even Allison.”

Scott nodded, “Ok, I’ll find Derek, you going to be ok? You look a little sick.”

Stiles gave Scott a withering look, “I feel like my entire world was blown up a bit, and I feel sick, because I am so little now. But yeah, I’m ok, just get him and get me in a bed, I’m totally going to need to sleep more.”

Stiles wasn’t aware of how long Scott was in the house, or how long it was before someone picked him up and put him in the bed, or what day it was when he woke up. All he really knew was that he was in a bed, and that everything was still tiny. Well, he was still tiny. He pulled the pillow over his head, feeling his ears crushed against his skull. “Stiles, are you up?”

It was Peter, “No. I’m asleep, and dead.”

Peter chuckled, “Good to know, are you hungry?”

Stiles was about to say how he wasn’t hungry, but his growling stomach gave him away. “Yes, I am hungry, what time is it?”

Stiles looked out the window, but he couldn’t tell the time, or what side of the house he was on. Peter replied, “well when you feel up to it, I made some food, and it’s almost 8, so you might want to get up, you’ll have a visitor soon.”

Stiles sighed; of course he was going to have a visitor. 8, so am. His world was suddenly strange and horrible. Yesterday he was the guy with the 3.95 GPA, and a predilection for sarcasm. Now he was a kid again. Or at least something that looked like a kid. He wasn’t sure. But he knew that he was unhappy. Very unhappy.

Track shorts that were still too big for him. He tied them tighter, looking at his waist, he still had the scars from the fights, they just were pinker, not as scarred, they looked like they were healing. He saw that he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt, just a flannel shirt, one of his old ones. It was not his favorite shirt, it was itchy in some places, but not amazingly itchy, like the one that Lydia had complemented.

He padded onto the wooden floor, but he was feeling sick, tired and sore in places that had no reason to be sore. He tried to call on his magic, a quick healing, but it wasn’t coming, he felt his skin stitch together, but it was sluggish and slow, not quick. This was weird, and wrong. Stiles apparently was on the second floor, and Peter was here, which was weird, because Peter was never really here, not much.

 

The bottom of the stairs ended in a large family room, or that’s what it would have been if Derek had his family. Stiles felt the ghosts, and he saw the photos of old and new Hales staring out, some having their eyes closed, or filtered to look normal. Some having strange darkness around them. He had seen them hundreds of times before, having put them in the frames himself, printed them, having edited out the shiny eyes so that normal people wouldn’t find it strange. He knew who each one was, and then he felt sick, because he was a child, looking at the history of someone else, and that was exactly what crazy felt like.

“Good, you’re down, Derek went into town to pick up some clothes that might actually fit you, he should be back soon. And Scott said that he’d be by when Deaton got here, but that’s yet to be seen, apparently he has to catch Danny and call Lydia and see what she knows about magic and things like that. And you and I are supposed to figure out what to do with you, as far as going off to college and other things go.”

Stiles nodded, his day was going to be taxing, but at the same time, he couldn’t imagine that any day soon his life would be getting much easier. “I still don’t understand what’s going on.”

Peter looked at Stiles, his flannel shirt hanging well past his knees, the shorts that were slightly snug on the fully grown Stiles, well mostly grown, were now loose, baggy and covered everything but ankle. He looked vulnerable, and Stiles knew that more than anyone. Especially without his magic. “Well, you look like you might be eight, maybe nine. And you smell strange, younger, fresher. But you still smell like you. And you still have your own mind, so that’s good, but that’s also bad, because you are supposed to be an adult. You came up with a pretty good plan, I’m happy to know that you think well, even when it is nap time.”

Peter was smirking good naturedly, and Stiles was used to it. Gone were the days that anyone was afraid of Peter, and even though he wasn’t forgiven, he was part of the pack, as much as anyone else was, and he was helpful. He sat at the breakfast table with coffee, sipping it, enjoying it. He was a normal man, who also happened to be able to kill anyone without remorse, but he wasn’t murderous anymore. Derek knew that, Scott knew it, but Stiles felt weak and nervous. His position in the pack was never solidified, and Peter was raking over his features like he was lesser. He knew it, but he would try to not let it show.

“So, I guess we have some things to explain,” Stiles said, “And I want to know exactly what happened. So that I can write it down in my grimoire, and then hopefully reverse it. Any chance you can call Scott and tell him to take pictures of my room?”

Peter gave Stiles a pained look, but decided against fighting a good idea, Stiles saw that clearly. “Yeah, let’s get your mistake sorted out, before you try something again.”

Stiles let the comment go, he knew he had messed up. But he didn’t need to be angry about it, not right now. There were other more pressing things to be frustrated with. “Peter? Do you mind helping me, I can’t reach the bowls.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, but smiled at Stiles in a warm way. “Sure, here.”

“Thanks.”

Milk and cereal added to fill it, in that order because he was weird, Stiles sat down to eat. He contemplated the universe. What if he never grew old? It could be fun, the fact that he could be a real life Peter Pan. But what if he died too soon, what if his body was dying as he sat there, eating cereal. What if his dad found out? What if he went back to normal? Would he forget about this? Would use this on someone else? Why couldn’t he do his magic anymore? Stiles contemplated a million different questions in his head, something he could only do with the aid of his spells, because his mind had to work like that now. 

He had read it in a book once, had seen it on numerous TV shows, and had wanted to someday investigate. He knew that somewhere out there, in another universe perhaps, he was sitting in his room, with a cat. He knew that somewhere out there, in another universe, he was dead. Maybe in another universe he accidentally breached another universe entirely. Maybe there was no other universe and his mind was just messing with him.

Each of these universes had a version of him, except that version of him was different. What if he wasn’t even human there? He thought about it all, but couldn’t decide if he was being smart or unintelligent. He decided that it didn’t really matter, as nothing mattered if he was going to die in a few minutes from the spell backfiring at him. As he was deciding his own fate, Peter woke him from his contemplative trance. There was a car coming up the drive, and the driver was human.

“So Deaton is here, that’s good, he’ll help us figure out what is going on.” Stiles was confident that whatever was going on, Deaton knew what went wrong, and if he knew exactly what happened, then he could help. Deaton helped, that was his only job in this universe. He helped regardless of faction or evil or good. Deaton helped any and all who came to him. It explained why he let Gerard die, why he helped Scott so many times and why they all trusted him to help them, even if he helped the other side too.

But Stiles was scared of the man. The man was too helpful. There was something wrong with someone if they helped everyone.

Stiles got the door, knowing that the sooner he saw Deaton, the sooner this problem would go away. “Hey, Doc, glad you could make it.”

The man on the other side of the door shook his head. Stiles stood silent and still for a second. There were no words for this, and there were no actions that he could do. He idly wondered in the back of his overly fast brain if there was a universe out there that didn’t hate him. That wouldn’t have put his dad on the front steps of Derek’s house.

“Hi, I didn’t know that Derek had…” the sherriff stopped, “you…”

Dad.

There was silence, Stiles was running ahead of his mind but found no solution, the Sheriff on the other hand made the connection, “Stiles?”

His dad would have recognized him from a hundred yards away. There was something about a kid who wore flannel that just wasn’t right, no matter who that kid was. And Stiles had always worn flannel, starting back when he was 8, and he watched Nirvana for the first time. There was something about plaid that soothed his soul. He knew that he should say something. But he couldn’t. His dad was never supposed to know about this stuff. He was human, and he would stay human. 

“Stiles?”

Stiles made the decision before he could think of it, “Yeah, it’s me, dad. Please come in.”

Sheriff badge aside, his dad was a strong man. He had always been strong. Stiles heard the stories from High School and college, long before his dad was able help others with bullets and authority, he was strong. He was always helping, just like Deaton, just like Stiles tried to help those he loved. But his dad was always righteous. Of course he was. So he stood there on the porch and looked at his son, and his son looked back and the moment lengthened.

Finally, Peter graced their emotionless reunion with a cough, “Sheriff, if you would be so kind as to come in, I have coffee for you, and some sinfully delicious cookies I have left over from the graduation party a few days ago.”

Stiles’ mind was gone. Only a few days ago he was graduating, from High School. He almost forgot it. “Ok.”

His dad had finally stopped looking directly at him. Now he just looked slightly angry, and more than a little confused. “What exactly happened? I mean, why do you look like,” he couldn’t find the words, so he just made a sweeping gesture to Stiles’ entirety. “And why are you here?”

Stiles didn’t know how to start, it would be more helpful if he had told his dad before all of this what he had been up to for the last few years. The mysterious deaths, the lucky breaks in weird cases, the lack of physical evidence at so many crime scenes, even video evidence was rapidly becoming a problem, as they showed no evidence of the crime. Not that Stiles and the pack did much crime. But they knew how to erase evidence if they needed to. Stiles was really good at it, with all the little magic that he knew, all the little tricks he had picked up here and there. But he didn’t want to explain it to his father.

“Magic is real.” Peter finally said, all three of them in the living room, Stiles sitting next to his dad, feeling so small and vulnerable, even though a few days ago, he would have looked his dad in the eyes. 

The sheriff took a bite of cookie, “Magic.”

Stiles nodded, “I am pretty good at it, actually.”

The Sheriff nodded, “And you are magic?”

Stiles was going to have to take this very slowly, “Yes, I am magic, I guess. But I don’t really do too much of it. Not really, not often. Only when I need to. But last night… well two nights ago, I wanted to do something, but I messed up.”

“You are a magician.”

Peter sighed, “Yes, magic is real, and Stiles is good at it and he is a magician of sorts.”

It shook the Sheriff from his thoughts, “And you were going to tell me?”

“No. I didn’t want to put you in danger. The reason why I learned so much magic was to protect you from this, the world I was in. it’s just a bit more dangerous than the real world.”

The Sheriff was taking this all very well, concidering what was going on at the moment. “And you weren’t going to tell me.”

Stiles felt very exhausted, and a little annoyed, “It’s like with you and your case files, you keep them away from me to protect me, to keep me safe. Well I decided to do the same with my magic, I had to protect you, and my friends, so I kept you away from it. It kept you safe, and allowed you to worry less. And if I knew that you needed to know, I would have told you, I promise.”

Beacon county was fairly large. It had a few larger towns than Beacon Hills. The sheriff’s station was built in Beacon Hills because it was the center of the county. If there was any problem in any city, the local police department, usually a two or three car operation, could always call on the sheriff. It had been the same for a hundred years.

Suddenly Stiles’ gut gave a lurch, he knew how this was going to end, and he didn’t want to see it into his conclusion. His dad was the sheriff. There was going to be an investigation and there was going to be explanations and murder investigations and prison time. Or maybe not prison, because even though he was an adult, he looked like a kid.

“Are you going to try and go back to normal?” his father asked, a small amount of moisture glistening into his eyes. “Or are you stuck like this?”

Stiles looked at the man in front of him, a man meeting a stranger he had known all of his life, and sighed. “Yes, I am trying to find out a way to reverse it. But I am not sure what I can do or I can’t do. My magic hasn’t been working right since I woke up this morning. I don’t know what is going on.”

The sheriff shook his head, “Did you know that your mother could do magic?”

The room went silent.

So the sheriff continued, “Your mother, she was pretty amazing at everything she did. Art, music, dancing. She was an amazing woman.” There were tears, and suddenly Stiles was in his father’s arms, hugging. “She was an amazing woman and she could do magic. She would tell me not to look into it, but she told me.”

Stiles felt guilt. Still, his dad continued, “She was sick, very sick, before we met, but she used magic to cure it, or slow it. She told me that after a month of dating. She showed me how she could control water, fire and air and then she kissed me good bye. We talked about magic, before you were born. She knew that she would have to give it up eventually, that she would be sick again when she did. She told me all of this, and told me that she hoped that you wouldn’t have magic, that she hoped that you were normal and human like me.

“But of course, she was wrong. I knew it all along. I’ve been ignoring it,” and it wasn’t the Sheriff talking, “She used to tell me that if you had magic, to tell you, but not to mention it unless you did. She wanted to be here for you forever, but she knew she was getting worse. She said that magic could do many wonderful and scary things, and she wanted you to know.”

Stiles felt his arms going numb, squeezing at his father, “She didn’t want me getting hurt. She knew that if I wasn’t magic, I would have tried to do some stupid magic that could have killed me. She was protecting me.”

His father nodded, not saying a word. Eyes closed, a single tear trail going down from each eye. “Your mother wanted you safer than she had ever been. Magic users usually try to make the world a better place. She used to go for a day or two, just to stop something from killing people. That’s why I became a Sheriff here. She said she had to protect the town from the monsters who wanted to kill people. She was always looking out for everyone.”

Stiles shuffled back a few inches, continuing to wrap his small arms around his father’s frame, “I do the same thing. It just takes me longer than a day or two.”

The sheriff shuttered, “I was hoping it was someone else. The lack of evidence, the bodies. They were all the same. The sheriff’s station bombarded with animal attacks. Have you been fighting the animals that did that?”

Stiles sighed, breathing deeply, and sighed again. “I have been helping the town and all who live in it be safe from the monsters who would kill anyone in it. They don’t care who they kill. And not all monsters are bad, and not all monsters kill people. I think mom knew that. Or she would have told you who the monsters were.”

The sheriff looked confused. 

Peter coughed, politely. They turned to him, “Yes, well you see, your wife was protecting the town, and us. We just didn’t know she was doing it. We used to come across people and things that we didn’t understand. They were dangerous, and deadly, but they never harmed us. She probably knew that we protected the town just as much as the town protected us.”

Again, Stiles took in his father’s confused face, and sighed. “Dad, you know Peter? Well, Peter here, is a werewolf.”

The gun was out and cocked in less than two seconds. Stiles was both impressed and exasperated. “Dad, that won’t work, just put the gun away, please?”

“You kidnapped my son!”

Stiles sighed, “No, he didn't, I had Scott bring me here, from my room. I didn’t want you to find me like this.”

The gun was lowered, but not any safer. Peter for his part just sat on the couch, looking nonplussed. “I think we owe your wife quite a bit.”

And that’s what it took before Derek came into the house, and his dad wasn’t so much reacting as just doing, and he shot one bullet, without thinking.

There was a howl and Stiles saw blood.

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposed to be 7 chapters long, that can change depending on if the universe wants to crack again or not. Be forewarned, if two chapters are posted on one day, that means that the universe has decided to branch out into two new universes... which actually happens at the end for sure on this one, but might happen a few times... Still, it is only 7 chapters, and I will label them correctly, I hope.


End file.
